


I Almost Do

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2012 Phan, Angst, M/M, cry its angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-25 03:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4944955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angst songfic inspired by I Almost Do by Taylor Swift - 2012 Phan</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Almost Do

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written ANYTHING in my lifetime that hasn't ended with a happy ending. I bet, within a few hours of completing this, I'll feel a loss and emptiness and a need for happy endings...

**I bet this time of night you're still up.**

Dan rolled over, tucking himself further into the small pocket of darkness beneath his blankets. The soothing hum of cars outside thrummed in his head, and the purr of rain echoed in his bedroom. The empty grey outside seemed to sit by his side, as he curled further into himself and let more tears roll down his face. His mouth dry, he weeped as silently as possible, trying to ignore the sound of the TV buzzing in the lounge room.

Phil sat, curled up in the far corner of the couch with red and puffy eyes. The TV mumbled before him, but he wasn't concentrating, his eyes just boring into the space in front of him. He tucked his head between his knees, grabbing his hair and pulling it, his knuckles turning white. He sighed, rolling onto his stomach and falling asleep, hidden underneath the sheets. 

  
**I bet you're tired from a long hard week.**

Phil turned off the television, quietly making his way into the kitchen, turning off the lights and heading back to his room. Dan's bedroom door was shut completely, a rare thing, and the lights out. _Maybe he was asleep_. Phil stood by the door for a moment, straining his ears to listen in, only having silence returned. He sighed, walking to his bedroom and climbing into his bed, alone. _Maybe he was just tired, it's been a big week..._

Dan heard Phil pause by his door. He bit hard on his lip to avoid a sob escaping him. He ripped the sheets from his body, running to the door and falling over as he pushed it open. He heard Phil fall to the bed, and the silence that followed was almost hollow. Dan stood alone in the hall, the pitch black darkness swallowing him. He stepped back into his bedroom, the lights from the street outside guiding him back into bed.

  
**...And I just wanna tell you**  
**It takes everything in me not to call you.**

Dan awoke, grasping the sheets, his arms searching for something that wasn't there. He gripped the air, praying that Phil would return in his arms; if he hoped hard enough. Eventually giving up, he rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling as if fighting with it. Clenching his fists in the sheet, he felt hot and exhausted, until he heard the kettle begin to boil. He immediately relaxed, tearing off the sheets and leaping from the bed, before realising his incorrect move.

When the two were together, Phil would always wake every morning to make Dan and himself a cup of tea (mainly to get Dan out of bed), and this morning, the tea was only for one, Dan assumed. Dan felt himself crumble inside-out, falling backwards onto the bed and hiding within the sheets. He tried to cry, he really did, but not one wretched sob could escape him. He guessed he'd lost the ability after the previous few days.

In the kitchen, Phil poured the boiling water into two mugs, brewing the tea. Lifting his own mug to his mouth to take a sip, he opened his mouth to call for Dan,  _"Tea's ready, Bear!"_. Falling onto the couch, tea almost spilling onto his lap, instead lapping at the edges, Phil let out a quiet whine. Maybe Dan would come for his tea, eventually.

 

 **And I wish I could run to you.**  
**And I hope you know that every time I don't**  
**I almost do.**

It was late, and the traffic outside had almost come to a halt, too. Not a single light in the house was on besides Phil's vibrant, white laptop. He scrolled through twitter, trying to take his mind from the situation he lived in, but the short sentences proved to be an unfortunately poor distraction. He shut his laptop, rolling over to face the moonlight that streamed through his small window.

He missed the warmth Dan provided. Not only the physical heat from snuggling at night, but his warm smile when Phil told a stupid joke or fell over, or the warm dinners he'd attempted to make to be romantic for Phil. Every little thing Dan did was...  _Warm_. Phil couldn't exactly put his finger on it, but running his hand over the cool sheets in front of him made him almost choke. He sat up and left his bed, headed for the door, but stopped as he grasped the cool handle.

Letting go, he walked backwards to his bed, as if there was something pushing him. He lay down again, letting himself succumb to sleep.  _Almost_.

  
  
**I bet you think I either moved on or hate you**  
**'Cause each time you reach out there's no reply.**

Dan slid on his coat, bracing himself for his trek to the living room and then back and out the door. Sucking in a sharp breath, he grasped the cold door handle and twisted it, stepping into the hallway. He strode into the kitchen, his breath held and his fast paces wide. Looking through the pile of numbers and pamphlets, he hurriedly shuffled through them looking for the taxi business.

Phil, on the couch, turned to see Dan, frantically searching for something on the bench. He turned the question over in his mind, "What is Dan looking for?" and wondered if he should ask. He didn't. Instead, he turned his attention back to the computer screen and tried ever-so-hard not to look back at his ex?-boyfriend. Dan 'ah'ed suddenly, and began to leave the room. Phil broke his silence, "Are you going somewhere?" All he could mutter.

Dan nodded, humming, then ducked his head and almost sprinted into the hallway. Phil heard the door slam shut, closing his eyes with it, and hanging his head low. He felt his eyes start to drown in tears, and quickly lifted the base of his palm and wiped his eyes. He was always the strong one.

Dan sprinted down two flights of stairs, sitting on the fifth from the top, and curled into a tight ball. He hugged his legs, his eyes slammed shut, and felt the tips of his knees and his entire cheeks become wet. He was bawling on the staircase, his lower lip curled under in pain. His hands in fists, he pounded the stairs. He missed Phil, he missed Phil,  _he misses Phil_. And he hopes Phil doesn't think Dan has moved on.

 

 **I bet it never ever occurred to you that I can't say "Hello" to you**  
**And risk another goodbye.**

Dan sat behind his bedroom door, leaning against the wood and softly tapping his head against it. The vibrations echoed around the house, but Phil wouldn't say anything, it'd happened a lot lately. 

One thought ran through Dan's mind, _could he really talk to Phil again?_ Oh, how he wanted to. How he wanted to run into Phil's soft arms, the arms that had always protected him. Would they still, now?  _Why bother?_

And if he ran into Phil's arms again, and they did protect him, how long would they hold on?

 

**Oh, we made quite a mess, babe.**

Phil scrolled through twitter, multiple posts from fans about  _Phan_ , and  _Dan **and**_ _Phil_. Some detailed love and romance and promising futures for the two. Others theorised on their absence, deeply describing the way they'd dramatically parted suddenly. Phil shut his laptop, sliding under the sheets.

 _They were right_. The two were separating, drifting apart more and more each day and there was nothing Phil could do anymore. Upon this, the world was questioning their sudden departure, and their internet life was a mess. 

Dan sat on his bedroom floor, a shattered vase surrounding him. What a _mess_.

  
**It's probably better off this way.**

Phil was in his ensuite, the water streaming down his back as he thought about the situation. He'd had Dan in this shower before, and he missed Dan's body. Not only in the bedroom and the shower, that's conceited, he reckons. He missed when Dan would sit on his legs instead of his bottom on the couch. Or, the way his fingers tapped coffee mugs as he reached into the cupboard to grab them. Or, the way his hips twisted when he walked around corners.

Maybe Phil was obsessed. Maybe, this was a good thing, this separation. 

  
**And I confess, babe,**  
**In my dreams you're touching my face**  
**And asking me if I wanna try again with you.**  
**And I almost do.**

Dan awoke, his heart beating fast and his hands clutched to his chest. He thought back on his dream, trying to ingrain every moment of it into his head so he would never forget those sweet, sweet moments. 

_Dan lay on Phil's bed, Phil on top of him and staring deep into his eyes. He leant on his left hand, his right hand lifting up and gentle caressing his cheek, taking in every inch of skin he'd missed over the past few days, weeks, months (Dan didn't even know anymore). Dan brought his hands up to Phil's chin, holding it gently in his palms and losing himself into his blue and green eyes._

_Phil's skin was soft, just like it always was, and almost glowing in this perfect dream state. In fact, the whole world inside this dream was glowing and blurry. And, as Phil pressed a gentle kiss to Dan's cheekbone, the world began to fade. "Do you wanna try again?" He whispered, as the cloudiness took over Dan's head. Dan pulled Phil closer one last time as he whispered, "I love you, I know we can do it all again. I know..."_

Shaking, Dan shoved his face into the pillow. Would he do it? He didn't know, himself. Maybe if the situation happened so he would be dough in Phil's palms, and say "Yes," and "I love you," and "It's been so long and I've missed touching you and kissing you and loving you and all I want, now, is for you to love me and for me to love you too." And maybe that was a ramble, but it was the truth.

* * *

Dan scrawled as neatly as he possibly could on the blue-lined paper, smudging the ink a little as his palm swiped it. He wrote every word that came to his head, despite the ramble, and watched as he filled three pages, front and back, with words to Phil. He ended with three quick words, signed it as  _Dan_ with a small heart, and folded it up. He shoved it in an envelope, glueing it shut instead of licking it, and slipping it under Phil's door.

Phil heard the piece of paper slide across the floor, and picked it up, carefully opening the envelope. He sucked in a harsh breath as he began reading, leaning back to avoid tears running the ink. As he scanned the last three words and Dan's signature, he folded the letter back up, dropping it onto the floor. Jumping up, he swung open his door, and ran into Dan's room.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. Confused by the ending? It was heavily inspired by Eleanor and Park, an old favourite book of mine! (creds to rainbow rowell!!!!!!) The last three words Dan wrote in the letter to Phil are unknown. It's up to you to create your own story. What did Dan write in that letter? What were those last three words? Why was Phil crying? Why did he go to Dan's room, and what happened after that?
> 
> All these questions, for you to answer on your own. Of course, I have my own ideas on what happens after this story finishes. Of course, I won't say, because that is my opinion.  
> What do YOU think? Send me a message (read below) as I'd love to see your take on the ending.
> 
> @fivepixelphan on tumblr for updates, and you can give me feedback and prompts :)


End file.
